Centuries of Unspoken Needs
by CastieltheCompanion
Summary: The Doctor tries to help the Master and brings him along for a ride.


The Doctor and the Master faced each other at last, at least twenty feet from the other.

The Doctor had his hands buried in the pockets of his striped, brown suit, with his infamous tan trenchcoat overflowing and trailing behind him stoically. He gazed wearily at the Master, who was grinning madly with tufts of matted blond hair flittering gently in the breeze that now picked up. The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

"Master."

"Doctor."

The Doctor took an uneasy step forward. The Master continued to grin madly and cocked his unshaven head.

"Can you save me again, Doctor?" he teased, putting his head back but keeping his mad eyes locked on the Doctor's. The Doctor said nothing as he took another risky step forward.

"Can you hear them, Doctor." The Master muttered, his lips curled.

The Doctor lowered his head and swallowed.

"Hear what, Master?" he croaked, his voice dark and concerned.

The Master's face relaxed. "Can you hear them? The drums, Doctor, they're still there, they're always there."

The Doctor frowned. "I can help you, Master, if you let me, please, Ko-"

"Don't say that name," the Master growled, eyes flaring. "I'm the Master, that's all."

"You're mad, and you need me." The Doctor lifted his head and bore his old eyes at the Master's infuriated ones.

"You know I can help you," he continued, stepping closer. "I can-"

"Shut up," the Master grumbled, crumpling to his knees in frustration.

The Doctor bent down, as if approaching a small injured child, and gingerly took the Master's face in his trembling hands. The Master growled again and pulled away. The Doctor persisted.

"Let me help you," he breathed desperately, stroking the Master's frizzy blond hair. The Master cackled. "You can't help me." he grinned menacingly.

The Doctor sighed, and, clutching the Master's temples, closed his eyes. The Master's eyes fluttered, and the Doctor's face shuttered with looks of pain, endearment, frustration. He pulled his hands from the Master's diseased head, gasping, and fell to his knees besides the Master.

The Master blinked and breathed heavily, his lower lip trembling.

"I can't help you…" the Doctor whispered painfully into the ground.

It was the Master this time who took the other Time Lord in his hands and lifted his face, and he slowly brought it closer to his.

He gently placed his lips on the Doctor's, and, as a rush filled through them both, crushed himself into the Doctor's broken body more forcefully. Their lips parted as the Doctor granted entry, and a few minutes later they pulled apart, gasping. The Master looked at the Doctor with lust-filled eyes, and again met his lips with his own. The Doctor helplessly succumbed as his Master led his tongue along the inside of his mouth, his hands tangling in the Doctor's scruffy hair.

Finally the weary Time Lords parted, catching their breath. The Master remorsefully picked himself up, and as the Doctor opened his mouth to stop him, ran off.

Exhausted and still in shock with what just happened, the Doctor watched regretfully as the Master disappeared out of sight. He slowly stood up, sadly glanced at the stars wistfully, and trudged back to his bolted TARDIS.

Collapsing to his knees, the Master keeled over and sucked in desperate breaths of air, fatigued by the running. He wiped beads of sweat from his slick forehead, not all caused by the running itself. Still breathing heavily, he glanced up at the night sky for a few moments before again collapsing into a sobbing ball of self-pity, misery, and angst. His sides heaved with his cries of frustration and regret, clutching his throbbing head as the drumbeats echoed in his mad mind.

The Doctor gently clasped the TARDIS door shut, and silently strode over to his consol. He flipped a few levers as the machine buzzed to life, wheezing with effort.

"Atta girl," he whispered lovingly, patting the consol and looking up. He then collapsed onto the cushions of his control room chair and held his slick face in his weary hands. He stayed like that for a few moments, hunched over with his head peeking from behind his hands, before rubbing his face and dropping his hands. He stood up again, running his hands along the consol, and brought his shaky hand up to catch a falling tear as it fell from his eye. He wiped his eyes gingerly on his sleeves and flipped another switch, landing the old girl.

The Master, still curled in a fetal position, was gasping in shuttered, uncontrollable sobs and sniffles, quieted himself down. The familiar scraping and wheezing of an all-too-familiar time machine sounded distantly, getting louder.

"Great," he croaked, mostly to himself."Now I get to hear TARDIS engines too."

"'Fraid that's necessary," a chirpy voice came from behind.

"No, you just leave the brakes on." The Master grumbled, a smile threatening his lips.

The Doctor grinned, then frowned seriously. He narrowed his eyes, this time with a spark of excitement and a twinkle in his clever eyes. He extended his hand from within the TARDIS doors, a blinding light enveloping his silhouette.

"Come with me," he affirmed, gazing at the Master.

The Master considered.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

Then he grinned, and slapping him a high-five, the Master pushed his way into the TARDIS and strolled around.

"Don't touch a thing!" the Doctor warned through his teeth, glowering at the Master.

The Master threw his hands up symbolically, and strode over to the consol chair, throwing himself into it and putting both hands behind his head. The Doctor relaxed, and even half smiled at him.

They shared a moment which soon became an intimate staring contest, in which the Master broke to leap up and clap his hands together.

"Now," he exclaimed, sucking in air through his teeth. "Where were we?" he teased, lusty eyes resting on the Doctor.

The Doctor raised his brows in pleasant surprise. The Master was in front of him, yanking on his tie in two heartbeats.

The TARDIS purred in protest as the Master crushed his eager lips on the Doctor's once again and led him down the corridors for privacy. The spinning blue box drifted meaningfully as the last of the Time Lords caught up centuries of unspoken needs.


End file.
